


Dressed to impress

by millygal



Series: Prank Wars [4]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Prank Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 14:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10641825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: Gene-Genie is a sneaky, evil shitbag, but we love him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't resist. I was watching something on TV and this kind of flopped into my head and proceeded to wibble about until I wrote it. I'm starting to worry how many more of these my twisted brain will come up with. I seem to be obsessed...Help?

Ohhh fucking perfect! Enough's enough. Three times now. Three times he's had him trussed up like a Christmas turkey. Would he never bloody learn? The man wasn't to be trusted. Especially when there was alcohol involved.

_"It's all right Sammy boy, a little nip won't 'urt anyone will it? Come on man, Show some compassion. He looks like 'is throats been cut, poor fucker"_

_"But Guv, he's on a charge of solicitation. You can't seriously be considering giving him some of that god awful grog you call whiskey?"_

_"Why not! He's stuck in here, gettin' his little pink panties in a twist and freezin' his poor little delicate bum off. Least we can do is give 'im something to warm 'is insides, in't it?"_

So, against his better judgement and in one of his more stupid lapses in **Gene-is-an-arsehole** awareness, he gave the great big burly transsexual called Vernon, something to keep him occupied.

When the confused individual in question offered him some of the Guv's more potent paint thinner, he'd thought, _why not, what could possibly go wrong?_ Famous last words, those. Sam could've been forgiven for letting his guard down. After all, they were sat in the cells. Ginny had been on night shift at the desk and there were two or three uniforms milling about.

What he couldn't be forgiven for, was forgetting what a shifty shit Gene Hunt really was.

As a result, he'd ended up awaking in cell two with a splitting headache, mouth like Ghandi's jock strap and a very shiny, very sequined, _very_ itchy twin piece, **glued** to his chest and arse.

To add insult to injury, Vernon was no where in sight and an out of tune chorus of 'Get ya tits out for the lads' could be heard coming from the booking area.

Sam fumbled around for his clothes, no such luck. _Git._

Nothing doing, he had to get up and leave. He couldn't sit in the cells for the rest of the day hoping some good faery would drop clothes in his lap.

Sam's re-emergence was met with whoops and hollers from every quarter. God, men in bell bottoms and floral shirts were laughing at _him_. Oh, the irony.

Gene was stood in the doorway to the squad room, fingers hooked in his trousers, like some malevolent sheriff, smirking and smoking. As Sam passed, head held as high as humanly possibly with saggy bikini bottoms plastered to his backside, Gene whistled low and patted him on the arse "Give us a shimmy, Gladys"

Ray was laughing so hard he fell backwards off his chair, hitting his head on the desk behind him. _Good._

The last thing Gene heard as the doors to CID swung shut was Sam hissing "Gene, you fucking **bastard** "


End file.
